X Ray Vision
by Periwinkle Watson
Summary: Sharpay Evans is depressed. She hates everyone - and they all feel the same way. Except for one boy, who had been there from the start. Whether she knew it or not.
1. Part One

**I have ZashleySilver to thank for this. Her Jimmie/Sharpay story: Chronicles, was what inspired me. :D Thank you!**

**This'll probably turn out to be a 3-shot. I wanted it to be a oneshot, but I couldn't stand not posting. And actually, though, I think it might be better this way. It'll make it go slower and feel more realistic, I guess. ;)**

**Hope you like it! (If you want a soundtrack, just listen to some SafetySuit. Life Left to Go, Something I Said, Apology, and Find a Way :D)**

**-sxg**

* * *

**X-Ray Vision**

**Part One**

Sharpay Amanda Evans was diagnosed with clinical depression 10 months ago.

_Sweetheart_, said her mother in sympathy, _where is all this anger and sadness coming from?_ Wordless, Sharpay reached into her bag and pulled out 15 handwritten, thoughtful letters of hate and shoved them at her. The other customers in the shrink office watched suspiciously as Derby Evans gasped at the pointed expressions. Sharpay rolled her eyes. It's not like of any of it wasn't true. It was all honest, down to the nitty-gritty.

Arrogantly, Derby ripped them in half and threw them in the trash can across the room. _I will not tolerate that maltreatment. Make sure you bring that up during your session._

Sharpay bit her nails. Yeah, sure she would.

10 months ago Sharpay died her blonde curls a deep dark brown. And she permanently straightened them.

-x-x-x-

Jimmie Zara started attending East High 2 years ago.

The minute he walked into the building, he spotted the most beautiful girl in the whole world. She was spunky, covered in pink, and her blonde curls bounced with each step. But what struck him most about the girl was the way he could see straight through her. He already knew her story. He turned to his best friend, Donny.

"Who's the chica in pink over there?" He jabbed him in the ribs three times. Donny rolled his eyes.

"How should I know? I've been here just as long as you. Which has now been," he glanced at his wrist watch, "about 2 minutes."

"Should I ask her out?"

"Bro, you're crazy. You don't even know her."

Jimmie turned to him, staring in his eyes seriously.

"No, Donny, I do." He walked off with confidence.

"Yep, he's crazy," Donny muttered to himself.

Jimmie tried to push past the crowd. He ducked and shoved and squeezed, but it seemed the closer he got the deeper the hallway was congested. Were they all gawking around because of her? For her?

-x-x-x-

2 years later, Sharpay walked the same hallway—but with a completely different approach.

It was as if she was trudging through murky waters, wading into an area infested with hate. All because of her. For her. The only thing that remained the same as last year was a young boy, at the age of 16, watching her once again.

Sharpay didn't notice him then, when she was at the top of her game. And she definitely didn't notice him now that she felt like the scum on the bottom of his sneakers. But just like last time, Jimmie Zara knew exactly what was going through her mind.

After reaching her locker, with the same plastered expression of lassitude and apathy, she sighed deeply and yanked it open. She saw the mini-mirror inside it and glared in disdain. Her face was pale, her eyes lackluster and dirty brown. Even her hair was flat and lifeless. _She_ felt lifeless. _And the worst part is_, thought Sharpay, _I cause my own misery. Because I'm a horrible, self-pitying person. And that's all there is to me. Awful, awful things._

"Hey Evans!" called a voice.

Sharpay rolled her eyes. _Here we go again_. She spun around, a smug look on her face. Chad Danforth stood on the other side of the hall, his head cocked arrogantly. She just stared, waiting for his latest ridiculously retarded ridicule.

"Something you feel like saying, Danforth? Or is this just your way of being annoying?"

"Both, Evans. Don't you know me at all?"

"Unfortunately, I do." She crossed her arms and glanced around at all the fish-faced students gawking at them. Suddenly, one in particular caught her eye like thunder had just blasted in the room. He didn't even smile or frown or glare. He just stared, motionless. Quickly, she turned back to Chad.

"So, are you ready for it?"

She sighed, "What you say to me has no effect whatsoever. Don't you know _me_?"

He glared and then he rolled his eyes.

"Well, good then. Here's something for you: Just leave, Evans. Really," he stepped closer, so that now he was only inches from her face, "we're so tired of you. You make everyone sick and we want you gone."

His eyes rang out so clear—this wasn't a façade. He meant every word he spoke, with honesty. He didn't _just_ say it to hurt her (nothing ever did anymore), he said it almost vulnerably. He was speaking the raw truth.

Sharpay clicked her tongue and simply turned back to her locker, as Chad walked off.

"Trust me, Danforth," she whispered to herself, "I wish I was gone too. I really do."

Jimmie Zara read her lips, the shred of her voice streaming in his ears.

-x-x-x-

It was finally time for lunch. Really, it was finally time Jimmie talked to Sharpay.

He rolled his hands over each like dough, as he sat at the round red and white table, waiting for Sharpay to enter the cafeteria. Donny watched him with concern. Jimmie just needed to speak with her—just once. He needed to hear her broken voice so he could see exactly how to mend it. Donny suddenly punched his shoulder.

"Ow! What was that for, D?" he exclaimed.

"Why do you look like you're about to throw up?"

Jimmie rolled his eyes, "I'm waiting for her—I have to talk to her."

"J, do you really think she eats in the cafeteria? Where all these people can see her?"

Jimmie stopped his constantly roaming hands and thought about that. Actually, he thought about why he _hadn't _thought of that. Of course Sharpay didn't want to be seen. She hated everyone here and they felt the same. So why on earth was Jimmie still sitting?

"I'll be back," he said urgently, grabbing his board and rushing away. But he paused and turned back to Donny, "Actually, I won't—see ya."

Donny rolled his eyes and waved his friend off.

Jimmie searched the halls endlessly. He couldn't find her. He checked every place he could think. Somewhere, anywhere, everywhere. She wasn't in school. So Jimmy hopped on his skateboard and flew out into the parking lot, grinding down the railing.

Suddenly, he skidded to a stop, nearly toppling off—because right there, dead ahead across the lot was Sharpay's car. And she was sitting in it.

-x-x-x-

Sharpay hated cafeteria food.

That was her excuse. She told them this so they'd just go on hating her and turn their backs. The truth was: she loved the food East High served. But what was the point of changing? Everyone already had an opinion of her—and becoming someone different would only cause more uproar. More attention. And the more she got—the more they hated her.

Even though, the one thing Sharpay was lacking: the right kind of attention.

Someone to see inside her head with their x-ray vision.

Because there was no way she could explain it.

Sharpay sat in her pink Mustang convertible, the one her daddy bought her when she was sixteen. She pulled a pen out from the glove box and climbed over to sit in the passenger side. She leaned against the dashboard, with her palm facing up. She began to draw on it. Words, depictions, patterns. The things she saw in her mind. Her feelings.

She was so lost in her work she even didn't notice that someone had slid behind the wheel. Until he spoke up.

"What are you writing?"

Staying calm, Sharpay merely glanced over. It was the kid she had seen in the hallway this morning. The weird one. As long as he didn't try anything, he could stay.

"Put the top up, will ya?"

"Um, yeah, okay," he said, puzzled by her relaxed response. He looked around for a button, something that said: Top Up. He found one that looked close and pushed it. Thankfully, the lid started to come up over them.

Once fully covered, Sharpay put down the pen and turned to him. Jimmie did the same. They stared at each other for a long time. They heard the warning bell ring thrice before either one had said anything. Finally, his head twisted to the side, Jimmie spoke up.

"Do you actually like your hair that color?" He stared at her seriously.

"Yeah, I do," she spat, fire burning in her eyes.

"It's so dark. What happened to the blonde?"

"I killed it." Sharpay loved to scare people, but it seemed Jimmie was unfazed.

"That's really sad," he said.

"Enlighten me." She turned back to her drawings.

"I would really like to."

Suddenly, outraged, she threw the pen down and turned to him, her brows buried deep over her eyes.

"Why does everyone have such a creepy fetish with blonde hair? I like it this way, okay?"

"Okay."

"I was fake when my hair was blonde," she said, her tone holding onto the anger inside.

"And now you're real?"

His question caught her off-guard. Because the answer was: no. She was still pretending. Only now, she pretended something different. She pretended she liked the way she was. Sharpay didn't answer his question. She just sat back and glared out the window.

"Usually, when someone asks someone else a question they answer back," he said, but in a protective, kind way. Sharpay scoffed.

"Usually, people know when to shut up."

"Not really. A lot people are too inconsiderate to realize or care, for that matter."

"Thank you so much for that excellent observation."

"You're welcome."

It seemed no matter what sarcastic remark she threw at him, he came back with one unequally so. He answered each question like she had really meant it. Because, apparently, _he_ really meant it. He was beginning to scare her. Her heart was pounding. It was hurting.

Where were her pills when she needed them?

Sharpay began to rummage around the car. She popped open the glove box and fished through it, but to no avail. Maybe it was in her bag.

"What are you looking for?" Jimmie asked.

Sharpay grabbed her purse from the back seat and practically ripped it open. "My pills."

"You take your pills at 1:30 in the afternoon?"

Finally, she spotted them in her bag and pulled out the bottle with a sigh of relief. Then she looked at Jimmie.

"I'm supposed to take them whenever I need them," she said with a tone that suggested he didn't need to know anything about when she took medicine.

"And you need one _right now_?"

She glared at him, "Yeah. I do."

Jimmie folded his arms over his chest and watched, carefully, as she took two. Almost as if he was parent or something. After swallowing them, Sharpay capped the bottle, glared and tossed it to him.

"Here, _Dad_, go 'head and check it out."

"I don't need to," he said, handing them back.

"Oh, now you believe me?" she asked in a sweet, very sarcastic tone.

"I use to take those."

Sharpay's brows fell in.

"What do you mean?"

Jimmie shrugged, a half-smile on his face, and opened the door. He got out and turned around before leaving.

"Well, why do _you_ take them?" And he shut the door.

Sharpay took a breath and rolled her eyes. That was why she didn't talk to people anymore.


	2. Part Two

**The section in _italics_, is the past.**

**MAKE SURE to read CAREFULLY because in a certain section it switches back and forth between _past_ and present. :D Read On!**

* * *

**X-Ray Vision**

**Part Two**

By this time, last year, before anthing went wrong, Sharpay expected to be ruling the school.

Senior Prom was almost here. And after that: Graduation. But she didn't have a clue what she was going to do with herself. All of her plans, her hopes melted in the heat of last year. Last year, when her brother died. And everyone blamed her. She blamed herself. Because it was her fault. Her fault that Ryan had died.

Without anyone there to support her, she just let go. Even a year later, she still felt like she falling. She wasn't sure where it would all end. Or more importantly: _would_ it end?

Now, what was stupid prom? It meant nothing.

Graduation? So what?

The future was as bleak as the fog that engulfed her head. Like looking down a tunnel that went on for miles and miles and you couldn't see the end anywhere. And the only light coming toward you was a train, ready to smash you into the earth. There was nothing ahead of Sharpay but more of what she already had. Misery and shame. And she couldn't bear to open her eyes to it. She didn't want to see it.

It was torturing her.

-x-x-x-

"Dude, did you hear?" Donny said, excited for once, grabbing Jimmy's arm.

Jimmie had been running to see if he could get another chance to talk to Sharpay. It'd been a week since their conversation in her car. And he couldn't stop watching her. He wanted to keep knowing her. He wanted to help her. But it almost seemed that she was avoiding him. He would round the corner just as she ducked into the bathroom. Or he would call her name and she would just roll her eyes and walk away.

So maybe she was avoiding him. But that was a good thing. Because it meant she had felt something—and now she was scared of feeling it again.

Jimmie stopped and turned to his friend.

"Can you believe it's been a week and she _still_ hasn't talked to me again?"

Donny sighed—sometimes Jimmie had the worst attention span. "Actually, I can believe it. She doesn't like anybody, J. Get it through your skull," he tapped Jimmie's head.

Jimmie rolled his eyes. There was no point in trying to convince Donny that he had a special connection to her. No one would understand but Sharpay and Jimmie, himself. No one ever did.

"Isn't that awesome!" Donny exclaimed. Jimmie shook his head. He must've drifted off.

"Yeah … what's awesome, again?"

Another sigh from Donny, "Troy's party?"

"Troy's having a party?"

"Uh, yeah. It's after prom. His parents rented a place down by the beach…"

"Oh, that's cool," Jimmie said, but clearly distracted—his eyes roamed the hallway for any sign of Sharpay. Donny snapped at him.

"Dude! You're not listening!"

"Sorry, sorry—go on."

"He's inviting the entire basketball team! …That means us!"

"Wha—oh! Oh, that's wicked!" Jimmie hollered, slapping hands with Donny.

"Yeah, yeah—the whole thing is a three-day event. We're staying over two nights, one for the party and then everyone's going down to the beach for the day. It's like a mini-vacation—but cooler!"

"Dude, we're so in!"

"Right?"

-x-x-x-

Lying in her room, door closed tight, Sharpay shut her eyes.

She crawled into a heap of blankets on her bed, arms folded securely, listening as rain pelted her window. She closed her eyes. She just wanted to go to sleep. But it was there, pestering her.

"_Ryan! Where in God's name are we?" she barked._

_On the cobble street, in the dark of the night, where the fog was thick enough to be sliced like bread, Ryan sighed. He turned back to look at his sister._

"_Look, the ticket guy told me exactly where it is. I know what I'm doing."_

"_Oh yeah? Then tell me _exactly _how long it'll be 'til we get there."_

"_Well, I would—but I can't see the street signs."_

"_Oh my god, Ryan! We're so lost!"_

"_Sharpay!" he yelled, louder than expected. She stopped short. "Just be quiet please. I'm dealing with it."_

"_Whatever," she muttered. But she couldn't help herself. "It's your fault the car was towed, anyway."_

_Ryan scoffed, "Shar, I was only listening to the advice you so kindly _shoved_ down my throat."_

"_Well, that's your problem."_

"_You're right—it was so stupid to listen to anything _you_ say."_

_Sharpay gasped and reached out to slap Ryan's arm, but what she enclosed around her fingers was not Ryan._

"No, no please," Sharpay whispered to herself, curling up tighter, her hands covering her mouth. But the memories wouldn't stop.

_Slowly, the street lamp shone away the fog, and she glanced up. It was definitely not Ryan. He was Mexican, with baggy pants and a crooked smile aimed right at Sharpay. She gulped and released his arm. "I-I'm sorry," she said quietly. She tried to scoot around him, but he kept staring at her with that same golden-toothed grin. She felt paralyzed. Suddenly, Ryan rushed up to her._

"_Oh, Shar, there you are," he said as cheerily as he could. He nodded at the man and tugged her away._

_They walked in silence for a few minutes and Ryan never let go._

_Then they heard the footsteps._

She balled her fingers into fists, her stomach churned.

_At first it was only one pair that traveled behind them. But out of nowhere, the sound of steps was heavier. Now there was three or four men. Sharpay's neck broke out in a sweat. She felt like throwing up. Why were they following them?_

_She caught up with Ryan, and walked right beside him. A ricochet of snickers, quiet chuckles, echoed from behind. And the noise was closer than it was before. Sharpay grabbed Ryan's hand and linked their fingers. She gazed at him with pleading eyes._

"_It's alright," he mouthed. But his eyes weren't so sure. _

The first tear trickled down her cheek.

_Suddenly, a breath washed down Sharpay's back. He was right behind them. Carefully, Ryan shook his head, so slightly only Sharpay could feel it. With one hand, Ryan dug into his pocket. He flipped open his phone and silently dialed 9-1-1._

"_Where you two ladies going?" said one of the thugs. With a glare, Ryan closed his phone. Sharpay then glanced around. There was one on every side. Her chin began to quiver. She looked at Ryan, begging._

"_Hey, I'm talking to you," he said again, and with two steps he was right in Ryan's ear. But Ryan wouldn't look at him._

"_Ryan," Sharpay whispered so frailly, it sounded like she was a million miles away. Then one bumped into Sharpay with his body. She gasped and grabbed Ryan's shoulder. But another pushed him in the chest._

Sharpay let out a soft gasp, and held onto the blankets with her whole body. The water in her eyes streamed across her face.

_Ryan stumbled backward and fell into Sharpay. She suddenly fell into one of the men, coming out of the alley behind them. He snickered and snaked his arms around her waist. _

"_No, stop! Get off of me!" she cried. She elbowed him as hard as she could. But he only pulled her in further, throwing her around, smashing her against the brick wall. Then she heard the punching. "Ryan! Ryan!" She was crying so hard; she couldn't see a thing. She just called over and over._

She was sobbing now.

_Sirens went off down the street. She was thrown out into the street, only feet away from her brother. She glanced back and watched, in the dim glint of the street light, someone punched Ryan right in the chest. The red and blue lights grew brighter, and the men suddenly disappeared into the darkness._

"_Ryan! Ryan, are you okay?" was the only thing she could say. She ran over to him, and grabbed his arm just as he slowly sank to the ground. "Oh my God, Ry! Ryan, please!" She tried to catch him, but her hand moved across his chest and suddenly she couldn't breathe anymore. The man hadn't just punched Ryan. _

_He'd stabbed him._

"Sharpay?"

Startled, Sharpay's head shot up to her bedroom door. There standing in it was her mother. Of all the people she didn't expect to see, she was the last on the list. A single, left over tear traveled down her cheek. She wiped it away with her thumb.

"Darling? Can I come in?" Derby asked, her eyes soft and sad.

Sharpay cleared her throat, "Um, yeah, sure."

Derby sighed and sat on the edge of her bed. Sharpay began to sit up, but Derby _shushed_ her, and in a comforting gesture, laid a hand on her back. Slowly, and confused, Sharpay lay back down on the pillows. Her mother sat for a while and just rubbed her back, going round and round in circles.

Sharpay spoke up.

"I had a dream. …About him."

"I know, sweetheart. I know."

And out of nowhere, she burst into tears once again.

Sometimes she hated her mom so much—so much that it was literally a pain in her chest. But she just felt so weak and she forgot everything that ever made her angry. It was like that with depression. There were periods when she was completely enraged, periods when she felt a deep sadness, periods when the guilt consumed her every move, and periods when she just felt nothing at all. That was her favorite. It was better she didn't feel anything.

Better that she didn't remember her brother.

-x-x-x-

Jimmie took a deep breath. He shook off his nerves. He wrung his hands.

He could do this. It wasn't that hard. Honestly, he wasn't scared of Sharpay, so why was he so anxious about talking to _Troy Bolton_? He worked on the same basketball team with him. It wasn't like they were total strangers. Of course, the only word of passage between the two was either "hey" or "yo," but that wouldn't stop Jimmie now. He needed to ask him a simple question. Just one.

About Sharpay, though.

"J-man!" horse-whispered Donny.

"Wha?" Jimmie bit off a fingernail.

"Troy's right across the hall."

Jimmie's head flew so fast behind him, it nearly bobbled off his shoulders. He ran two steps forward before Donny grabbed his arm and yanked him back.

"Dude, you can't go now!"

"Um, why not? Wasn't that the point of telling me he was right there?" he growled.

"Well, maybe I could've finished my sentence, if you hadn't bolted as soon as you heard the word: 'Troy'!"

Jimmie rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Look, you need a better setting—talk to him when he's relaxed. Then he might not shove your bright idea right back up your—"

Jimmie punched his arm before he could finish, glaring while he did so.

"I know you don't get it but that doesn't mean you should criticize it."

Donny rolled his eyes, "Fine. Sorry. Whatever."

"Good," Jimmie said with a smile. "Now excuse me while I go do the impossible."

As Jimmie walked off, Donny called one last time, "Good luck!"

"I don't need it!"

-x-x-x-

"Okay, well, if he's relaxed, I should be relaxed. Relax Jimmie. You're the Rocketman—you can touch the skies!"

Jimmie immediately winced. How geeky was that? A mini-pep-talk before he even rang the stupid bell? He took a breath to cool himself off. There would be no geek talk. He just had to stay cool. Imagine himself talking to Sharpay. Somehow, he was so calm around her. Like he was watching a documentary of his own troubles—he knew every corner and every turn. He knew what to do. But at the same time, Sharpay kept him on the edge of his seat—so excited and lovesick. That's how he knew that she was the—

"Jimmie—what're you doing here?

"Gahhhhh—" Jimmie whipped around, his mouth plunged open. Troy raised a brow as he picked up the newspaper from the porch they stood on. He gave a small smirk as he waited for Jimmie to put himself back together.

"Oh!" he blurted, finally snapping back. "Yeah! 'Sup, dude!"

"I'm alright. Just getting the paper…."

"Yeah, cool. It's Saturday morning so…. But I mean, that's good. I-I can see how you like to take care of important things—you never leave anybody—I mean thing—out. Right?"

Troy chuckled at Jimmie's bright red face, "Sure."

"Great."

They stared at each other for a moment.

"Yeah—can I come in?" Jimmie finally blurted, again.

"Sure thing," Troy said with a smile, opening the door wide, leading the way.

-x-x-x-

"Are you sure she'll feel comfortable?"

Jimmie sighed and looked at him truthfully, "I hope so. I mean, I'm gonna be there—I can make sure Chad isn't too much of a dirt bag to her."

"Hey," Troy said with a laugh, "that might be true sometimes, but he's still my best friend, okay?"

"Yeah, sure," Jimmie laughed back.

"Well," Troy shrugged, "It's a deal then."

Jimmie smiled wide. Troy was a good guy—and Jimmie, himself, was an even better guy! He couldn't believe he just talked Troy into it, especially after all the flustering that morning. But what could he say? He was the Rocketman.

"Thanks man." Jimmie got up headed for the front door.

"No problem, but, hey Jimmie!"

"Yeah?"

Troy ran up to him.

"It's a really good thing—what you're doing." Jimmie shrugged, humbly. "And I'll make sure Shar knows it."

Despite Troy's kind gesture, Jimmie's face fell.

"Whoa, wait. You can't tell her I set it up."

"Why not? It was _your_ plan."

"Because-because—just don't. Please?"

"Um—"

"Tell her it was Gabriella's idea, alright?"

"Okay." Troy let the word hang as Jimmie jetted off.

* * *

**A/N: Hey y'all. :D**

**Gotta clarify a few things here, just in case somebody got cunfused. :) **

**2 years ago: Jimmie joined East High; Sharpay and Ryan were still on the top of the world.  
****1 year ago: Ryan died.  
10 months ago: Sharpay was diagnosed with depression.**

**Make sense? Goodie! Now, you can review! ;)**


	3. Part Three

**Hiya! **

**I'm quite proud of this chapter, I gotta tell ya. And pretty much after that, I don't have anything else to say. 0_o I know, right? Me - I have nothing to say. ...Weird.**

**Enjoy. Oh, and please please review :D**

**-sxg**

* * *

**X Ray Vision**

**Part Three**

Sharpay picked at her lunch.

She wanted to eat it so badly. But something was holding her back. She could feel every eye in the cafeteria gawking at her, just waiting for her to blow up. Waiting for her to cry and fuss and wail.

She sighed, with a shake, and put her hand over her forehead. It seemed like she was fighting the same battle everyday. Fighting for her privacy, for peace, and sometimes her own sanity. She was supposed to grieve at her own pace—but in this hellhole, she was under the watch of complete strangers, judging, rating her. She was trapped like a rat in the cage of East High.

And now, her stomach ached like she'd swallowed a rock.

Suddenly, something settled next to her. Sharpay let out a deep belly sigh, closing her eyes. Whoever it was could just—.

"Hi," he said. And she knew exactly who it was. She turned to him with a softly startled expression.

"What're you doing here, Jimmie?"

He laughed, "It's the cafeteria—I practically _live_ here." He paused and gave her what she thought to be a look of understanding. "You, on the other hand, have some explaining to do."

Sharpay scoffed, turning from him to glance down at her untouched tray. "I don't have to answer to anyone, _freshman_."

"Hey," Jimmie said, "if you're going to insult me by my high school ranking—at least get the ranking _right_."

"Oh yeah, sure thing," she deadpanned, beginning to pick her nails, "I'll remember that."

"Well, I hope so. I remember everything about _you_." Jimmie folded his hands between his legs, hunching over a bit. Sharpay rolled her eyes sourly.

"What's next? Fate has us destined to be together?" she sneered.

He just smiled. "You have a birthmark resembling a star on your left hip." Sharpay froze, nostrils flared. "You can't stand romantic-comedies because you think falling in love is the most serious thing two people can do. Your hair color is the only way you can express your contempt for the—"

"Stop." She could barely breathe. "How did you know all that?"

He merely shrugged, "'Cause I feel the same way."

"Yeah, but I—" She stopped herself, still in shock. She'd never told anyone that. Ever. No one was supposed to know those things. They were kept so far down in her heart, she had almost forgotten they were there. But now, it was as if he had put them on display for everyone. Sharpay's jaw clenched up and she glared at him.

Jimmie's face fell.

"Sharpay, I swear I'm not—"

"Shut up," she spat as she jumped out of her seat. "You're a little weirdo, okay? A weirdo!" She rushed out of the cafeteria as fast as she could.

-x-x-x-

Jimmie felt crushed.

He couldn't believe Sharpay thought he was playing some kind of trick on her. Some prank to bring her lower to the earth than she already lay. He could never, ever do something so evil to her. He was completely in love with her. He just wished he could help her out of her misery. And to see that he was a good guy, looking out for her interests.

Jimmie plopped down on the beanbag chair strewn on the floor in his room.

Now how was he ever going to convince her of that? From the moment Jimmie had met her, he was on slippery ground. And at this point? His feet had left the pavement and he fell down with a loud smack. Sharpay had lost what little faith in him she ever had.

So, he had to make a plan. He was going to get back up, and this time, stand taller than before. But it just wasn't there. He didn't know what to do, for probably the first time in his life.

But he knew who would know.

Jimmie dug into his tight black pants, and with great effort, fished out his cell phone. He dialed and pressed the warm device against his ear. His knees jumped with excitement.

"This is Bolton."

"Yo. It's, uh, Jimmie."

"Hey man. What's up?"

"Um…," he paused to swallow—his pride, that was. "I need some girl advice…."

Troy held back a laugh.

-x-x-x-

Sharpay stared at the thing.

She used to think it was the best prom dress on the planet. …And the pinkest. Now? She hated it. It was disgustingly bright—and quite arrogant in all it's shiny glory. Even if she was _planning_ on attending prom Friday night, she would duck out at the last minute, just so she wouldn't be seen in the hideous thing. Or worse, go in her mother's far more startling gown from the 80's. The one with the big puffy sleeves, which Derby swore was in fashion back then.

It's not like it mattered, anyway. Sharpay would never wear the dress and she wasn't attending _any_ public events. She had nothing to lose because she wasn't even playing the game.

But she couldn't stop staring at it.

Despite its flashy décor and its conceited statement, the dress represented something. It reminded her of what she once was. Not the outlandish scheming or the princessy attitude, but of her innocence. Her naivety. True, she was rude and obnoxious, but she didn't have to fight with the weight of unforgiving guilt. She didn't explode in worry every time someone glanced her way. She didn't cry her eyes out every night before bed. She used to be untouchable.

And now she was broken.

Sighing, Sharpay zipped up the black garment bag and closed her closet doors. Some days, she chose not to fight back. She just accepted it—she would probably hate herself for a long time, maybe her whole life. So what was the point in getting angry?

She opened her bedroom door and headed for the staircase beside it. It was Wednesday night, and of course she had no plans. After she'd been bamboozled in the cafeteria that morning, she wouldn't go out even to get comfort food. The world and all teenage boys in it were her enemy. The best remedy was to be a couch potato. There was a 72-inch-screen TV and a tub of strawberry ice cream calling her name.

Sharpay reached the living room and immediately stretched out onto the red leather sofa. First, she turned on the television and surfed for a good movie. It took her at least 20 minutes to finally find something not completely horrible. Some _Lifetime_ medical drama. Now she just needed a huge bowl of ice cream, a 2 liter bottle of soda, and maybe a plate of nachos and it would be the perfect combination.

She had ten minutes before the movie would start, so she wandered into the kitchen next door, searching for the best "sappy movie" food. Sharpay reached up to the first silver cabinet she saw and the second her fingers rested on the cool metal of the handle, her phone rang in her pocket. She crinkled her brows and accepted the unknown number without hesitation.

"Hello?" she said quizzically.

"Sharpay," he sighed. And she froze. "I want to explain what happened in the cafeteria today—"

She snapped back to life, and growled, "What happened is that you're just a creep—"

"Wait, no! You have it all wrong—"

Shaking her head, Sharpay pulled the phone away from her ear, "Goodbye," she said civilly.

"No please don't hang—!"

She shut the phone, and rested her palms on the marble island top.

Why wouldn't the stupid kid just leave her alone? She wanted to shout the vilest things when he was around. He got under her skin like no one had before—not even Chad Danforth could top him. Jimmie acted as if she were a distressed damsel, in need of a heroic rescue. And the craziest part was: he seriously thought _he_ could be that hero. He couldn't be farther from the truth. She needed no one—especially not him.

He was only sixteen, for crying out loud! He couldn't honestly believe he was going to sweep Sharpay off her feet, did he? Admittedly, she _did _give him the time of day—but only once. And perhaps (and that was a very large stretch) she may have given him a bit more if he hadn't gone completely bipolar. First, Jimmie shows up unannounced and acts like he's known her forever, throwing those captivating one-liners about her pills. Then he practically stops coming around for two weeks, like he's got cold feet or something. And _then_ he gets all creepy-stalker-ish on her—spewing out that "I feel your pain" crap.

Honestly, were there no sane men?

And more importantly, why was she letting the insane ones drive _her_ crazy?

-x-x-x-

Jimmie's heart raced as he sped towards Sharpay's grand house.

When she opened the door, she would probably do one of two things: 1) kick him out, 2) kill him. He wasn't keen on either of them, really, but he knew that he was doing the right thing. He simply could not have Sharpay believe he had meant to hurt her. Jimmie really _would_ let her kill him before he let her think that. And maybe that was just his teenage hormones talking, but he was truly serious about the matter.

Suddenly her house came into view.

Jimmie's jaw nearly dropped in amazement. At the entrance of the drive loomed a black iron gate. Thankfully, it wasn't guarded or patrolled. He just had to unlatch it and drive through. After that, he drove up a single lane, made up of pebble gravel, surrounded on both sides by luscious green grass and a white marble dolphin fountain. The lane, he could see up ahead, curved around the front of the mansion and then wrapped all the way back around.

He knew she was wealthy, but apparently it never sunk in.

The house itself was just as grand. Two creamy colored stair cases curled up to meet each other at the doors, where Jimmie imagined Sharpay brutally beating him. But he had to ignore that bubbling fear. He could do this. He could simply because he had to.

Jimmie parked his Dad's ugly beige car and stood staring at the house in awe once more.

He took a deep breath and ran up the staircase, until he stood right in front of the door. Closing his eyes, he rang the bell.

-x-x-x-

Suddenly, Sharpay sat up. Was that the door?

Who in their right mind would be visiting her at all, let alone at this time of night? Her life never ceased to keep her on the edge of her seat. With a nervous sigh, she pulled on her purple tee shirt and walked towards the door.

"Can I help you?" she hollered, pressing her head to the wood of the door. She could hear someone rustling around outside, as if anxious and jittery about the answer to her question.

"Um, Sharpay?" said a voice. "Will you please open the door?"

She sighed and obliged.

But the minute she caught sight of Jimmie's face, she tried to slam it shut. But without warning, he squeezed his body between the door and the frame—and he got the shock of his life when Sharpay accidentally rammed it into his abdomen. He let out an "oof". Jimmie was as squished as a pancake. Sharpay gasped and then giggled despite Jimmie's pain. She threw the door back and grabbed his arm firmly, yanking him inside.

Jimmie winced and then glared at her. Sharpay stood back a few feet, arms crossed, a cynical expression dancing with amusement across her features. She was waiting for a heck of a good explanation—or she would surely call the cops and have him arrested for stalking.

"I just … wanted to say that I am—"

"On thin ice—why, yes," she stooped closer until she was a breath away, "you are." She backed away and cocked a brow. She couldn't believe she actually _allowed _him in her house, let alone speak. But in hindsight, this was far more entertaining than _Lifetime_.

Jimmie's face was that of a puppy lacking attention. He looked almost wounded.

"I didn't make any of it up. I know who you are deep down."

"That's really hilarious—you should audition for the musical this year."

Suddenly, he sighed, exhausted, "Please—will you just give me a chance?"

"Why should I?" she barked back. "You humiliated me!"

"I know you have a heart, Sharpay—and you just wanna keep shutting me out!"

"I don't even know you!"

"But _I_ know _you_! If you would just let me be your friend—"

"I don't need friends," she said, lowering her volume, shrugging her shoulders like it was just that simple. But Jimmie sighed and his eyes saddened. It only made her want to slap him.

"Do you think you could make an exception—just for me?"

She wrung her hands in the air—oh, would he ever stop?

"God, I can't stand you! …I can't _stand_ you!"

"Why!"

"Because!" She paused and her heart lurched forward. The next thing she knew, the words came tumbling out of her mouth. "Because you're just like me!"

Jimmie's eyes shot up in excitement. Sharpay just stood there, shocked. Shocked, not that she said it, but that she couldn't bring herself to deny it. It wasn't the awkward atmosphere that held her back, either. Something in her heart was telling her she wasn't wrong.

Covering her mouth, she turned from him and paced forward. She stood at the entrance of the kitchen and put her other hand on her hip, contemplating everything. Waiting for it to disappear. Waiting for something—but she didn't know what.

In a terrifying way, it was beginning to make sense to her. She hated Jimmie because she hated herself. That's why she couldn't stand to be near him, to talk to him. She knew he was different. He knew something about her that no one else could ever understand.

After what seemed like forever, she slowly faced Jimmie. He stood quietly across the room. Biting her fingers, her face softened.

"Do you want some ice cream?"

* * *

**I found something else to say. hehehe :D**

**This might turn out to be longer than a fiveshot. I don't know, but it's possible. It's just a thought. Don't pressure me! ;) Just kidding. Okay, now that you're down here at the bottom of the page, might as well review, right? :D**


	4. Part Four

**What is with me, huh? I've been posting non-stop! I am a writing MACHINE! :D I'm very satisfied with the way this chapter turned out. I realize it's a little shorter than normal, but I really felt that the sections needed to stand alone in their own chapter. **

**Also: this may turn out to be longer than a fiveshot. (Have I said that before? I think so...). But anyway, I know where it's supposed to end, but it may take more than five chapters to get there. But that's alright, right? :D I know you guys will be happy about that. ;)**

**I hope you enjoy this.**

**-ssn**

**Oh, yeah, and one more thing: thank you so much for all the reviews, alerts, and favorites! You guys are totally awesome! xD**

* * *

**X-Ray Vision**

**Part Four**

Sharpay led Jimmie to the kitchen.

She opened the freezer to search for the frozen desert, but it served a dual purpose. To cool off her heated cheeks. Did she really just admit all that to him? She hadn't even discussed it with herself first: the words flew out before she had a chance to filter them. Sharpay felt humiliated.

As her eyes fell upon the carton of strawberry ice cream, she wished she could just kick that boy out of her house. She would have, but Sharpay knew he'd just keep coming back. And to tell the truth: she was sort of lonely. Her original plan was watching a cheesy _Lifetime_ movie, but she figured having Jimmie here would prove to be more entertaining. As long as he kept his "Yoda" talk to a minimum, that was. It often got on her nerves.

"Having some trouble over there?"

Sharpay had forgotten she still had her head in the freezer. She immediately pulled it out. "No, everything's fine. See?" She shoved the tub in his hands.

Jimmie fumbled back, but quickly regained his composure. He smiled and sat the carton on the island counter, sliding into a bar stool. Sharpay turned and pulled down a bowl from the cabinet. She leaned against the counter and scooped out a portion for Jimmie.

"Hey, where's your bowl?" he asked. She gave him a look.

"You obviously don't know me well." Sharpay stuck her spoon straight into the carton.

"Oh," he looked away.

Sharpay shoved a gulp into her cheeks and waited for the action to begin. Jimmie merely ate his serving quietly. She rolled her eyes.

"What, you don't have—?"

"Let's play 20 questions."

"I should've known."

Jimmie chuckled. "I'll keep it tame, I promise."

"Because you're so wild normally."

"Wildly inquisitive."

Sharpay scoffed, eating another spoonful of ice cream. "Well, anymore of that crap and you'll be wildly _in pain_."

"Point taken." Jimmie cringed a little. Sharpay had to admit, it was funny to see him squirm. She reached out and tapped the counter space in front of him. He looked up.

"You go first," she said, swallowing the mouthful of frozen cream. "I'm still eating."

"Okay, um…," he paused to think, "what do you like to do?"

Sharpay stared at him. Was he kidding? _What did she like to do?_ When he said tame, he meant it. She had to stop and actually consider the question. She wasn't quite sure what her hobbies were. Did she even have them anymore? A thought came to mind.

"Sleep. I like to sleep, Jimmie Zara. A lot."

"Well, that's certainly typical behavior," he tried to reach his spoon into her carton for another helping, but she shooed him away, "especially for someone that's depressed." He retreated, eying her in a knowing manner. Sharpay narrowed her own eyes.

"How do you know that?"

"Well," he gave a slight, but not amused laugh, "it takes one to know one."

Sharpay released her glare. Instead, she studied him, blankly. "Is that what you were trying to tell me last week, in my car?" She still held the carton in her hand, but she had stopped eating it.

"Um…," he replayed the scene in his mind, "no. I was trying to tell you I used to take your same anti-anxiety meds. I was trying to level with you."

Now, Sharpay sat the carton down on the counter before them. This was way more interesting than _Lifetime_.

"So, you take both an anti-depressant _and_ an anti-anxiety?"

Jimmie shrugged, "Yeah."

"Wow, you're one messed up kid, aren't you?" Immediately after saying it, she felt regret. Jimmie looked at her incredulously.

"Don't you think that's the pot calling the kettle black? I know you take both too."

Sharpay had almost forgotten that. Now, awkwardness crawled up her spine. But she scoffed away his accusation, quickly. Jimmie let it drop—he would've felt just as resentful. The two sat in silence for what seemed like too long. Sharpay wanted to stick her head back in the freezer, but instead, she cleared her throat. She couldn't believe she was about to ask him this.

"What happened?" Her voice was quiet, but seemed to echo in the silence between them.

Jimmie shifted. "What do you mean? Like, why do I have an anxiety disorder and depression?"

She nodded, feeling small.

"I can … pretty much blame my parents." He smiled, dissolving the tension. Sharpay laughed lightly and leaned forward to rest on her elbows.

"I _wish_ I could blame mine." She shook her head. "But, what'd they do?"

Jimmie heaved a sigh, "They got divorced three years ago." Sharpay sighed next: she hated this story already. "I was so stressed out by it—and I could've gotten away unscathed if they had just listened to me."

"I'm sorry, Jimmie," she said, sincerely. He seemed to be off in his own world; he pressed on without acknowledging her sentiments.

"I needed someone to talk to, but neither of them noticed. All they did was yell at each other—and then they would yell at me. At one point, I wished they were both just dead. After that, I couldn't get the bad thoughts to stop. So, I started cutting." Jimmie rolled up his sleeve and held out his wrist in front of Sharpay—but it was as if he was looking straight through her. Gently, she traced one of the scars with her fingertip. She had thought about doing it once, during a particularly dark month, just to get some relief. But she didn't. Seeing Jimmie's scars now, and on a boy so young, Sharpay decided she never would.

"At first it was just for attention—but then I couldn't stop. It was everyday. And the cuts started to get deeper. Mom finally noticed me, but," he stopped and shut his eyes tightly, he looked in pain, "they had to take me to the emergency room. I was bleeding to death." Sharpay's heart lurched. "I don't know how I survived. I didn't want to. I wanted to die. I had gotten so depressed, but no one knew." He stared at her for a few moments. Sharpay kept still. "Anyway," he averted his gaze, "I went to a psyche ward for a little bit. They gave me anti-anxiety and anti-depressants. And I don't get to stop taking them."

He pulled his sleeve back down and looked at Sharpay with a small, broken smile.

"And that's my story."

Sharpay was stunned. The blood rose in her cheeks. She was so wrong. So wrong about who he really was. She would have never given him the chance, but now it seemed maybe he really did understand her troubles. And after everything he told her, willingly—she _wanted_ him to understand her.

Sharpay put her arms around Jimmie and hugged him closely. Suddenly, tears fell from his eyes. He cried against her shoulder. His wounds were still there—no matter how many years ago. And Sharpay knew, she knew _exactly_ what that was like. It seemed that some nightmares never ended—they stalked her everywhere. They were untouchable. She held him closer.

"I know, Jimmie," she whispered in his ear. "I know."

-x-x-x-

Sharpay escorted Jimmie back to his car. She stood beside the door as he got in and buckled himself. She crossed her arms from the cool breeze.

"Hey, Jimmie?"

He looked up. His face was still red from crying.

"I'm sorry," she said. He smiled: he'd waited all night for this. "I'm sorry that I've been so rude to you. You're not so bad." She let a sly smile grace her features. Jimmie laughed.

"Thanks for listening, anyway."

She nodded. Jimmie waved and drove off. Sharpay walked back into the house. She leaned against the door, resting. What was this new feeling inside of her? She wasn't in bliss or ecstasy—nothing like the movies' portrayed. Her blood was warm, and comfortable. She felt … okay, for once. Her chest didn't ache from the pressure anymore. At least for tonight, she was unburdened.

Sharpay started up the stairs to bed. Suddenly, a voice called out to her.

"Sweetheart?" It was her mother. She stopped and looked down.

"Yeah?" she said tiredly.

"Who was that boy? He seemed nice."

Sharpay nodded, and laughed a little. "He's just a friend." The word was foreign in her mouth. "But yeah, he's nice."

Derby smiled. "You should bring him around more often." Sharpay pondered that. "Goodnight, honey." Derby left. Sharpay trudged up the rest of the stairs. She entered her room, crawled under the covers and sighed. When her head hit the pillow, she was asleep.


	5. Part Five

**Well, I guess this means there WILL be more than 5 chapters. :D I'm not totally satisfied with this chapter - not a whole lot happens, but it had to be written to get to where things DO happen. Know what I'm saying?**

**And hey, how come most of you didn't review the last chap? Tsk tsk tsk. You had me really worried there. ;P**

**I hope you review this one! :)**

**-ssn**

**P.S. This chapter is dedicated to UnwrittenTale. I included a small Jimella moment just for her. :D I hope you enjoy, mon ami!**

* * *

**X Ray Vision**

**Part Five**

Jimmie was left amazed.

So much so that he refused to recall the conversation. Normally, he'd have replayed each word that passed between them with careful, deliberate consideration—but this was different. It wasn't the painful topic of their conversation that stopped him, either.

Sharpay had warmed up to him for the first time and he feared if he concentrated on it too much: he'd suddenly wake up in his bed and realize it had all been a dream. In order to possibly prevent that, he decided to simply acknowledge that it happened and let the flow carry him wherever else it may. If he continued to have a relationship with Sharpay then so be it. If it were just a fragment of his imagination—he'd start seeing someone about it.

Jimmie slid his board under his feet and glided into the halls of East High. The buzz of the hallway ignited the fire in his belly. He was flying.

He zipped past a glaring teacher and a slick smile spread across his features. He was so wrapped up in rebelling that he hadn't noticed someone heading towards him—until it was too late. Jimmie tried to skid to a stop but he lost control and flew forward straight into the arms of a beautiful girl.

Slowly, Jimmie opened his eyes to check the damage. But when his eyelids fluttered to life, a brilliant shade of brown beamed right back at them. Gabriella Montez was holding his limp, diagonally-slanted body in her arms; his head rested directly above her chest. His cheeks boiled in humiliation.

Jimmie jumped back and firmly positioned himself three feet away.

"Uh... hey there, Gabriella. S-sorry."

"That's alright," she hit him with one of her famous face-cracking grins, "it's not everyday I catch a flying Rocketman."

Jimmie's skin was on fire. He tried to laugh at her joke, but it sounded more like a _honk_ than anything else. The level of his embarrassment crashed through the roof. He cleared his throat and fought to keep his voice from wavering.

"I hope you're not late for class or-or anything."

"No, actually, I was just on my way to talk to Sharpay. Wanna come?"

"Say what?" Jimmie's brows fell.

"Troy and I are meeting up to ask her about the prom. ...Wasn't it your idea? I think that's what he told me."

Jimmie felt like a bomb had just been dropped on his head. According to his plans, he and Sharpay were supposed to be heading off to the beach _tonight_. He'd forgotten about it completely. With such late notice, he was skeptical she'd agree.

"You're only asking her _now_?"

"I know it's late—I'm sorry. But she _does_ have a knack for avoiding people."

Jimmie bobbed his head to the side—that was definitely true. However, Jimmie "The Rocketman" Zara was equally good at _finding _people who didn't prefer to be found. He'd proved to himself that much. Suddenly, his face lit up.

"I think I can help."

-x-x-x-

Sharpay found an empty hallway and sat down against a row of lockers.

Already, the feelings of last night—acceptance, understanding, friendship—had disappeared. Sharpay hadn't expected to suddenly be cured of her depression, but she thought it might have lasted longer than one evening. She was wrong.

From the minute she walked in the door, Chad had harassed her. He sliced her about being dateless to Prom; it was pathetic that her only friend had been Ryan; her reign of terror was over. He struck every cord, every string that held her battered heart together, with sharp precision. Chad knew exactly what to say to make Sharpay hate herself.

She leaned her head on the cold metal of the locker and closed her eyes.

Sharpay didn't want to hate herself anymore. After all this time, it became exhausting. It made everything else she did harder. But the more she loathed herself, the farther away she pulled from the rest of humanity. Isolation was her only friend. But she wanted something real.

Sharpay wanted just one person to side with her. A shield from all the evils. She needed someone to say it was okay—to make her believe life was worth living. To take these burdens off her shoulders—it was too heavy to carry alone. And that one person would make all the difference in her life. She wanted—.

Her heart jerked.

She wanted Jimmie.

She wished he was here right now. Sharpay sunk further into the locker. The resistance she once held against him pooled on the floor like a stage curtain revealing the show. The spotlight shone on her head, now. She was ready to open up.

Sharpay only hoped Jimmie was ready too. It was a lot to take in, after all.

Suddenly, a hand patted her knee. Her eyes shot open. Gabriella was kneeling in front of her, a friendly smile made up her face. Sharpay looked up. There stood Troy right beside her. A sarcastic smile found its way onto her face.

"Well, if it isn't the two most romantic tree-huggers like ever." The words dripped from her mouth mercilessly.

Troy rolled his eyes; Gabriella giggled.

"Nice to see you too, Sharpay," she replied.

Sharpay's face remained blank. "Do you want something?"

Gabriella nodded, the smile never fell out of place. She elbowed Troy.

"Oh right," he stumbled forward a little. "Yeah, do you want to come to my party? We're having Prom down by the beach." He scratched his head. Sharpay raised a brow.

"You're inviting me? Did you think I'd actually come, or is this just the "make sure no one's excluded" protocol your parents put you up to?" Sharpay stood up and crossed her arms.

Troy opened his mouth, but couldn't find the words. Gabriella stepped in.

"Sharpay, not everyone _is_ invited. Some of Troy's friends, and a few of mine. We _want_ you to come." Gabriella softened her smile.

"Why?" she spat. "I'm not friends with either one of you."

"You used to be..." her voice slowly crumbled to a whisper.

Sharpay narrowed her eyes. "So, now that Ryan's dead—I'm not worthy of your friendship? Is that it?" Her words struck like daggers.

"Sharpay, no!" Gabriella looked alarmed.

"Why would you think that?" Troy whispered, concernedly. The more they tried to convince her otherwise, the more Sharpay resented it.

"Don't play games with me, Troyella. I don't have time for this bull." Sharpay turned her back and began to walk away. Gabriella reached out to call her name, but someone beat her to it.

Jimmie suddenly slid out from the shadows: the hall adjacent and Sharpay's only exit. She stopped in her tracks.

"Jimmie!" Her voice went up in volume from the surprise. "What-what are you—?"

"I _want_ you to come, Shar," he watched her carefully. "They're not trying to trick you, trust me. Just come and … and be my date."

Sharpay's brows curved in deeper. What was this? Some kind of gang-up? Why was he here, defending them? Was he in on all of this? She didn't know what to do. She thought she was ready to let him in, but the panic in her chest told her something else. She averted her gaze.

"I have to go," she spat.

She pushed past him and ran down the hall.

-x-x-x-

Jimmie sprang into action.

His eyes merely gazed over the dejected pair down the hall, before spinning around to catch up with Sharpay. Being here as back-up made him tardy for homeroom, but after he found and smoothed things over with Sharpay—he'd have detention. Jimmie had gotten detention plenty of times, for far sillier things—this time, he had a true and noble cause. Sharpay made everything worth the fight.

"It's okay! I'll talk to her!" he called over his shoulder.

He turned the corner and drowned in a raging sea of people.

As appeared before him, homeroom had let out, and switching classes caused much more of an uproar than Jimmie had expected. How would he find Sharpay now? He could scarcely stretch his arms forward without them being trampled on. He tried to jump and search over the hundreds of heads, but that was inefficient at best. Jimmie sighed.

Suddenly Donny was squished up against him. They were caught in an impossible net of people, neither could move without getting run over. Donny's cheek was pressed against Jimmie's.

"Oh, hey, Don." Jimmie could feel Donny glare.

"You know, I called you 20 times yesterday—what were you doing, dog?"

"Well," Jimmie tried to laugh but it was difficult in his current position, "ow—you have my attention, now." Donny jabbed him in the ribs. "Ow, dude! We're already crammed as it is—I'm sorry, alright?"

"You can't just disappear on me like that! I thought that maybe—" he stopped. Jimmie got the hint and sighed.

Finally, the crowd broke apart. They peeled away from each other. Donny was still glaring at Jimmie, but Jimmie had a softer facial expression.

"You don't need to worry about that, man. It was a long time ago—I'm done with stupid stuff like that."

"Well good. 'Cause you scared the crap outta me." Donny rolled his eyes. Jimmie pumped fists with him. Donny's face suddenly went blank. "You were with her, weren't you?"

"How did you know?"

Donny pointed across the lobby. Jimmie turned to see Sharpay standing 50 feet away, watching him. She looked so vulnerable. But when she met his gaze, she switched modes. Sharpay rolled her eyes in anger and stormed out of the building. Jimmie looked back to Donny quickly, pleading.

"Fine. Go."

"Thanks, man. I'll call you tonight!" He dashed away.

"Hey, you're supposed to be picking me _up_ tonight! Remember?" Donny shouted.

"Yeah, yeah!"

Jimmie broke through the doors of East High and stumbled into the parking lot. He knew exactly where she was hiding.

-x-x-x-

Sharpay had been so stupid.

She slammed closed the door of her Corvette and screamed into her hands. Why had she thought a 16-year-old boy would be the one to save her? It was the dumbest decision of her life. Why did she even care about him? She should have seen the scheme lurking behind his stupid boyish charms. Sharpay figured out a long time ago: people would only hurt her. Why didn't she remember that?

A _tap-tap-tap _startled her. She shot open her eyes to find the stupid boy himself knocking on her window. She glared.

"Go away, freshmeat!"

"Sharpay, please, let me just talk to you. I know what you're thinking—and it's all wrong."

Her blood boiled higher. "Oh, now I'm an idiot too? Get away from my car or I'll run you over, coward!"

Jimmie stopped beating on the window, breathing bated, and rested his forehead against it softly. Sharpay's patience was running on empty.

"I don't want you to be mad at me, Sharpay." He spoke so sweetly.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't press the gas pedal right now."

He lifted his head up, staring in her eyes. He was hurt—she could tell. "I told you everything. I showed you my scars. What more do I have to do to convince I'm a good guy?"

Sharpay wanted to eat her words. How could she have forgotten so quickly everything he had revealed to her? She hadn't opened up at all to him, and still he always came back. He should have given up by now. But he hadn't.

Sharpay unlocked the doors. Jimmie's ears perked up. She sighed, deeply, and threw her head to the passenger side. Jimmie jumped into the seat beside her without another invitation.

"Look," she began curtly, "it's not you I'm rejecting, okay? I just don't want to go to Prom, especially not next to Troy and his crew."

She plucked the key from the ignition and rested her hands in her lap. She didn't want to explain everything that Chad had said or done that scared her from being in close proximity with him. It hurt enough to carry it alone. Making someone else hold a portion would be inconsiderate and mean.

"Has Troy ever _done_ anything to you?"

Sharpay creased her brows. "No. He's just too oblivious to notice that everyone else in these parts hates me. His close friends included."

"It's Chad, isn't it?"

"I'm not scared of the bonehead, if that's what you're thinking." She looked at him sharply. Realizing it was a lie, she immediately glanced away. This boy had told her his darkest secrets and she had the audacity to lie right to his face.

"Well, I wouldn't blame you if you were—"

"I'm not!" Gosh, why couldn't she stop lying? She sighed and locked her eyes onto her lap.

"I think we should just forget about that loser and go because we want to be with each other."

His words released a chill over her whole body. She _did_ want to be with Jimmie. How could he know what she felt, when she wasn't even aware?

"We?" she asked nervously. Jimmie shrugged.

"You said yourself we're pretty much the same person."

"I didn't say I liked it."

"You don't want to like it, but," he smiled, "you do." Sharpay reached out and punched his shoulder.

"I do not."

He laughed, "Yeah, you really do." Sharpay couldn't hold her laugh in. The bell rung. She smirked at it and turned to Jimmie.

"We're late."

"I … don't really want to go." Jimmie looked at her.

"Yeah, me either." She let out a deep sigh. Sharpay remembered her thought from earlier in that moment. She wanted to let Jimmie in. But she hadn't done that yet. It was now or never, she supposed.

"I guess I have some packing to do, huh?"


End file.
